


Let Nothing You Dismay

by NoelleAngelFyre



Series: Twelve Fics of Christmas 2019 [5]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Gotham (TV)
Genre: Budding Romance, Christmas Feast, F/M, Lewis Carroll references, Slow Dancing, Unexpected Holiday Treat, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, figgy pudding, holiday celebrations, unspoken feelings, victorian christmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:34:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21855349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoelleAngelFyre/pseuds/NoelleAngelFyre
Summary: America isn’t a place for the Christmas of Dickens’ classic tale, but Alice just wants Jervis to feel at home for once.
Relationships: Alice Pleasance & Jervis Tetch, Alice Pleasance/Jervis Tetch
Series: Twelve Fics of Christmas 2019 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1566883
Kudos: 10





	Let Nothing You Dismay

The weather in Gotham is never of particularly good temperament, but during the winter months it becomes downright intolerable. Jervis tugs his collar in with a single gloved fist, providing one last bit of protection from the bitter bite of arctic breath as he braves forth the final stretch and, at blessedly long last, breaches the front doors of Wolf Pack Industries. The artificial heat envelopes him, and while it is a poor substitute for his fireplace and flannel blanket at home, such will suffice for the moment.

Or, rather, until the clock strikes brillig and relinquishes him back to his coveted seclusion.

He gets approximately five, perhaps five-and-a-quarter steps near his office door when a curious aroma tickles his nose: cinnamon, nutmeg, and a hint of citrus. Then something which smells distinctly roasted. A meat, of some variation.

It suggests that someone might be having some fashion of party in his office. And while the other employees make no pretense of thinking him a frabjous form of company, they do at least respect him enough to give his office a proper berth.

Against better judgment – something he has never been explicitly accused of possessing, now that the thought occurs to be pondered – he ventures forward and enters his office. Inside, he finds one entire counter space bearing a handsome spread of roast turkey, ham, potatoes, cranberries, and – to his utter astonishment – figgy pudding. In the far corner stands a tree, and while it does not boast much in stature, it carries itself proud with a radiant dressing of garland and colored lights. And in another corner, putting away the last paperwork in her hand, is Alice, putting the Christmas tree to shame: her golden hair is a loose tumble of silken curls and the red silk of her dress pays as much homage to the holiday as it does the fragile beauty of her form.

Belatedly, the notion occurs to Jervis that he might be salivating. Or at the very least, his jaw might be hanging in an unseemly display.

“Merry Christmas, Jervis.” She says, turning and folding both hands behind her back in a dainty gesture.

“I…” he clears his throat, twice, and tugs at his necktie, all in the hopes of doing something productive with his hands, “…what…that is, I mean…this is all quite…quite unexpected…”

“I know it isn’t much,” she answers softly; her shoulders shrug in an equally delicate motion which Jervis finds hopelessly endearing, “but this is our first Christmas together, and I wanted to make it special.” She heaves a sigh, no less delicate than any other expression she makes, and shakes her head; the golden curls toss around her cheeks and shoulders and catch tiny scatterings of light off the tree. “Unfortunately, America is not the place to find the Christmastime celebrations with which you would be more familiar.”

More familiar…oh. The meal. The Christmas tree. The attention to detail, which she so effortlessly employs in the mundane tasks of her profession, now applied to a gesture all for the purpose of making him…happy.

“This,” he boldly takes Alice’s hands and, with a charisma certainly not his own and a forward display he shall strictly blame on the yuletide cheer, brings her into a dancer’s position, “is as frabjous as Master Dickens might have ever written himself. Truly, my dear Alice, your kindness is without bounds.”

“A trait which breeds itself in similar company.” She murmurs; he hasn’t much (if any) in the way of prior experience when it comes to engaging in a dance with the fairer sex, so he cannot be entirely sure if the way she comfortably leans into him, small hand alighting at his shoulder while the other nestles into the grove of his palm, is the natural response of her sex or something entirely inherent to the angelic character which is Alice Pleasance, “And you deserve peace on earth at least one day of the year.”

It would be entirely too bold to confess with his mouth, but peace on earth is his to claim every day of the year, so long as the day is spent in her company.

There is no music to lead their dance, but when her cheek rests at his shoulder, Jervis wonders if she can hear the tempo of his heart.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing. Just playing in the sandbox with some shameless Christmas fluff for these two.
> 
> Title comes from "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen".


End file.
